Nothing's Really Working But That's Okay
by Crackuhlackles
Summary: Destiel High school AU. In which Cas likes to think he knows the way things work, and Dean is willing to admit he's lost as hell. When they meet, one will be turned up-side down, and the other will maybe get a little insight into who he is, and who he's meant to be. Rated for language, may become M in later chapters. Please Rate/Review!
1. Chapter 1

Nothing's Really Working But That's Okay

Chapter 1

_Cas_

I like to make lists. I'm very organized that way; everything, and every_one_, can be put into a category. Now, that's not to say one couldn't be put into multiple categories, with each category containing multiple lists, and that one person or thing could be featured in several lists within several different categories. But what I'm trying to say is, it varies.

It makes me uncomfortable when I can't fit someone into some kind of group or class; and yet, I enjoy it, because they become the odd duck instead of me. _They _don't fit in, instead of me. It's a selfish pleasure, but I won't deny it. Unfortunately, my brain has become accustomed to my habit of organizing the people and things in my life, so it's turning out to be a lot harder to find those special people who aren't quite right for any specific list.

One would think attending a high school as big as Garrison High would present ample opportunity for such unique individuals to thrive, but seeing as Garrison is smack dab in the middle of Silver Creek, North Dakota, uniqueness in general seems to be lacking. With a whopping population of 4,500 sweet, corn-bred citizens, Silver Creek is known for few things, and its individuality is not one of them. Despite the small number of inhabitants, because Garrison High is the only building large enough to house grades K-12 without risking the lives of all the tiny tots, it's kind of the biggest and most interesting thing in our town.

You have several groups of people within grades nine through twelve: there are the typical jocks, boys—and girls—who dedicate their lives to what little sport activities we have, and tend to ignore their parents' expectations regarding their grades. We have the nerds and geeks who frequent the library and computer lab and generally ignore the social customs of our school and just stick to their own little dark, dank corners. There are the intellectuals, who not only pride themselves on their…what's the word…eccentricity, but also their ability to lift their hoity-toity noses so far into the air, the basketball players could count their nostril hairs.

The most surprisingly peculiar group, however, are the cheerleaders. They aren't the kinds of girls you read about in those shitty high school novels; they're probably known worldwide for how caring and accepting they are. 99% of them—excluding the few Agnostics and Atheists—attend church every Sunday, provide baked goods to raise money for the animal shelter two blocks down from said church, and treat anyone who isn't graced with their good hearts as charity cases. It sounds gag-worthy, yes, but compared to the alternative, fictional version of cheerleaders, I'll take ours any day.

Everything I've told you thus far is merely an introduction into what will soon become my biggest, most complex project yet; this category, and the person in it, is nothing like anyone or anything I've encountered before, and I have shamelessly treated them as an experiment since the day we were first introduced.

His name is Dean Winchester.

It all began two months ago, when our senior year of high school began, and the new kids in town started to stand out in the crowds…

_Two months earlier_

"Hey, Novak, pass me the football!" One of the meatheads was motioning frantically in my direction, and I assumed he was trying to bring my attention to the pigskin ball located uncomfortably close to my head. I hadn't noticed it flying toward my head earlier, but then again, when I'm in my list writing mode, I tend to zone out a bit.

I picked up the ball and made a feeble attempt at tossing it back toward the football player—whose name after countless years of school together I still couldn't for the life of me remember—and winced as it landed haphazardly in the bushes approximately ten feet to his right.

He gave me thumbs-up and a toothy grin, but I could read his pitiful expression like an open, and disturbingly blank, book. I returned his look with a crooked smile and went back to what I was doing. My pen hung between my teeth, resting perfectly on my bottom lip like it had been built with my pen-chewing habits in mind.

The chitter-chatter of the freshman girls, much like the sound of birds excited for a new day of singing and nest-building, filled my ears as they flounced past in their too-short skirts and too-tight shirts. They would soon learn, if they wanted to earn the respect they desired, they would have to follow in the footsteps of their kindhearted leaders and dress appropriately so as not to provoke the meatheads into doing something everyone involved would regret.

The morning bell rang, signifying the beginning of the end for all the entering seniors. I'd come to learn that there was very little to look forward to between the ages of 14 and 18; until you were old enough to drive, high school would seem trivial and stressful and all too unnecessary. After your first car, however, the yellow brick road would illuminate the path toward the ultimate ending to the most tedious, and yet extremely chaotic, of stories: graduation.

I made my way through the great double doors and through the seaweed green and beige hallways. My locker was located on the second floor right in between the lockers of my fellow classmates, Anna Milton—my best friend in the whole wide world—and Gabriel Speight, the class clown and my other best friend in the whole wide world. The three of us had been inseparable since sixth grade, when Gabriel decided he wanted to make Anna, a practicing Christian, as uncomfortable as possible by announcing his homosexuality in the middle of class and professing his undying love for me, of all people. After that, it seemed kind of ridiculous to try and form any other bonds with the boring, generic kids we went to school with.

I felt fingers caress my shoulder blades and smacked them away. "Gabe, you can't keep molesting me in the hallways. What would the ladies think?" My tone was light, and I enjoyed teasing him about his open gay-ness.

"I gotta mark my territory, you know," he replied, doing a quick spin to show off his first-day-of-the-last-year outfit. "Whadya think? I tried to go for a more latin-y look."

Anna's soft laughter drifted over us like a cloud. She was a sweet girl with a heart of gold, and the only person I knew who could tame Gabriel's, well, flamboyancy. "I'm not really into the frills, or the neon," she grimaced, "but it's definitely you."

He grinned widely and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her cheek sloppily. "You're a doll, Anna." Leaning against the cool metal of the locker, I watched them affectionately. I knew once the year was over, we probably wouldn't see each other all that often, and it bothered me a little bit to think of the trio breaking up.

No one had time to continue the conversation before Becky Rosen, class gossip and fanatic, ran up to Gabriel, who was equally known for his love of the rumors and hearsay. She was breathing heavily, which normally meant she'd run a long way to get to Gabe, which usually meant it was either super important, or about boys.

"Gabriel Richard Speight, you will not believe what I have to tell you," she exclaimed, her blonde hair bouncing wildly about her angular face. Under most circumstances, she would probably be considered cute, but when she was in one of her 'moods,' the intensity in her expression generally sent guys and gals running.

"Well darlin' I won't know until you spit it out, so you might as well get the show on the road!" He let go of Anna, who turned toward her locker so as to avoid the gossip-twins. I knew it made her uncomfortable, so I offered her a supportive smile and a wave as she walked off to her first class of the day.

"Two boys, brothers, both new, both _hot,"_ she drew the 'o' in hot out until she ran out of breath, "and both exquisitely single."

Gabe squealed. "Oooh! Tell me names now, woman!" he demanded playfully, eyes glistening with his usual mischief.

"Their last name is Winchester—" Gabriel interrupted with a "how positively _masculine,"_ before Becky continued, "I think the older one is named Dean. He's in our grade. The younger one, Sam, is a freshman, but definitely a cutie."

Gabriel clapped his hands together with glee and grabbed me by the shoulders. "You know what this means, Cassy baby? Fresh meat for papa Gabey!" With that, he kissed my forehead, grabbed his books and skipped off, presumably to wherever Anna was so he could tell her the good news.

That left just Becky and I to stand in semi-awkward silence until the loud chatter of the halls hushed and she let out a whimper. When I gave her a questioning look, she pointed a shaky finger in the direction of the entrance to the main hallway on this floor. I had, up until now, considered myself to be completely heterosexual. But when I saw the man who walked through those doors, I too felt a small noise erupt from my throat, to the knowing look of my companion.

Dean Winchester—from Becky's predatory expression I'd deduced it was the eldest brother—was far from the usual white-bread type we had around here. He wore a noticeably worn leather jacket over a button up and a t-shirt underneath, with light blue ripped jeans; not those fashionably ripped pieces of shit, but honest-to-god 'I've worn the hell out of these pants' jeans. Some practical boots made the hallway echo, and he wore a ring and a necklace to top off his alternative bad-boy look. Well that coupled with his stubbly jaw and tousled hair.

I felt the temperature rise and I wasn't sure if it was just me, or if everyone felt the change in atmosphere as he literally swaggered past gaping mouths and hungry eyes in the direction of AP Physics. When he came closer, I noticed his eyes following mine, grazing my figure softly and inquisitively, as though he didn't quite know what to make of me. Granted, I felt the same about him, but I hoped I was at least a tad bit subtler than him.

When he'd finally turned the corner and the rumor mills were up and running again, I felt claws digging into my arms. "He was checking me _out, _Castiel! _Me!" _Becky's voice grated on my eardrums. I didn't know why I was suddenly irritated with her presence; maybe it was the fact that I KNEW his eyes had been glued to me and not her, or maybe it was just because she was a generally annoying person, but I needed to leave the vicinity quickly.

With a hasty 'That's nice,' I managed to escape her clutches and make my way to the men's restroom before the final morning bell. I noticed the blush on my cheeks and felt it intensify as I went over the last couple of minutes in my head.

This was a foreign feeling, and as of now, I was completely thrown off by Dean Winchester. For the first time in a long time, I didn't have someone pegged. I didn't know how I felt about it, but I supposed I would find out soon enough.


	2. Chapter 2

Nothing's Really Working But That's Okay

Chapter 2

Dean

I never wanted to come to this fucking school. Like, for Christ's sake, who the hell ever heard of a town like Silver Creek? I've slept with more people than there are in this town. I can tell the move is hard on Sammy, too. He hates how we have to migrate from place to place, never staying at one school or in one city for more than a month. He gets why it has to happen though; at least, I think he does. I can't talk to him about it because we're guys, y'know? All that touchy feely shit just doesn't fly in our household. We don't have time for that kind of stuff. Bobby's a good foster dad, and he takes care of us in the only way he knows how: tough love.

Not that Bobby's vicious or anything. But he's not afraid to slap us upside the head if we screw up, and Sam's real sensitive about that kind of thing. After how our dad treated the poor kid, it's no wonder; our foster parents don't know about any of that though. They just know we were thrust into the system to prevent us from "going off track," or some bull like that. I could've taken care of my little brother if it had come down to that, but the social workers got to us first.

When we were first taken in by Bobby and his wife Ellen, Sam begged me not to tell them about how we'd lived in the past. "We have to start over, Dean," he said. "I just don't wanna have to think about it. And I don't like the way your eyes go all dark when you remember the stuff we went through. It scares me and I hate it. Just, please Dean, for me," and dammit but when that kid looks up at me with his big innocent eyes, fuck it if I don't fold every single time.

So I've kept quiet, watching as my brother suffers through the memories our birth father forced on him. I almost told Bobby a couple of weeks ago, before we'd moved to Shit-Town, USA, when he was yelling at our foster sister Jo for sneaking cigarettes into the house and Sam was in the corner of our shared bedroom having a panic attack because he doesn't do well with loud noises, and it was so _fucked up _because what could I do but hold him and murmur, "I'm here, Sammy, it's just me and you, me and you," until the shaking had subsided and he was silently sobbing into my arm. I couldn't do _anything. _And it almost broke me.

Then Ellen announced a week later that Jo had been expelled from her fourth school in the past four months, and we were moving to Silver-fucking-Creek, North Dakota. Three days later we're on the road and arriving in this small good-for-nothing town. At first I was a little bit excited, you know; new town, new chicks, new friends, a brand-smacking-new start. And then school started, and it all went downhill.

Sam was good at integrating himself into unfamiliar surroundings. He could make a friend just by smiling at them. He was that kind of person; the one you always wanted to be around. I, on the other hand, tend to scare people enough that they just avoid me...unless they're chicks. Then they just want me for my, well, dick.

The thing about Garrison High is how proud everyone is of their dinky little town. The level of pep makes my skin crawl, to be honest. And yeah, the ladies love me, the guys are jealous of me, and the teachers having given up on trying to actually teach me. But all of that doesn't mean anything because Jo will eventually fuck something up, and then off we'll go to a new town and I'll have to watch as a little piece of Sam is left behind.

The atmosphere is all off, too. In the past, we'd gone to schools where the jocks were the jerks, not the kids with good grades. The cheerleaders were bitches, not the band kids. The religious kids were the outcasts, not the majority. It's all topsy turvy here, and I don't know if I like it. Plus, people stare…a lot. They stared at us as we drove into town, and when Sam and I entered those damn green doors on the first day of school two months ago, it was like we were some kind of extraterrestrial creatures.

_Two months ago_

"Dean, will you button up your shirt for once? No one wants to see that much skin," Ellen complained as she pushed us out the door of the pickup truck. "And Sammy, hun, please zip up your jacket. We aren't in California anymore. It's like you two S.O.B's live to torment me," she huffed.

I grinned wolfishly at our foster mother, whom I adored. "Ah El, we're angels, aren't we Sam?" I ruffled his hair and he swatted my hand away in annoyance. I kissed Ellen's cheek and gave Sam the go ahead to do the same before we backed up onto the curb outside the entrance to the school. We waved, she waved, she drove off, and we were faced with yet another school filled with thousands of faces I'd forget, but I knew Sam would always remember.

We started to make our way toward the steps, weaving our way through the sea of high school kids. I watched as a football player narrowly missed the head of some guy sitting in the grass with a pen wedged between his teeth, a thoughtful look on his face. It was a nice warm face, one I probably wouldn't mind getting to know. I felt a hand tug on my sleeve and I looked down at my little brother.

"D'ya think Bobby and Ellen will let me join any sports teams this time?" he asked, his expression devoid of the hope I knew he was harboring inside.

I shrugged, keeping up my general nonchalant attitude. "If you ask nicely and get good grades, I don't see why they'd say no. But why do you want to join the league of wasted space, anyway?" I had no patience for lugheads. And in my experience, all sports players were lugheads. They were just a bunch of beefy guys who assumed being good at anything physical removed your responsibilities completely, and that pissed me off.

He rolled his eyes and turned to stare straight ahead, not responding. "Sammy, bro," I prodded, "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

He sighed. "I'm tired of being bullied, okay? I'm tired of getting good grades and being made fun of for it. I figured if I joined the football team or the soccer team or something, the bigger guys would stop beating me up."

Anger bubbled up inside of me. "You're supposed to tell me when bastards beat on you so I can show 'em not to mess with a Winchester," I snapped, and when he winced I regretted my tone immediately. Sam had repeatedly refused to let me teach him how to fight, and it annoyed me to no end.

"That's the point, Dean. If I'm of some kind of use to the school, the other kids won't think I'm expendable," he reasoned, "and then you won't have to live in the principal's office this time."

It bothered him that I was always getting in petty fights since he thought it was some kind of psychological thing, 'cause of our dad. That was bullshit, of course, but I liked it when he talked smart. It gave me hope. "Whatever, little man. Just remember to let them know who your big bro is if they ever decide to mess with you," I replied, grinning down at him and laying my arm around his shoulders. He was pretty short, but I always reassured him that he'd grow someday. He wouldn't be as tall as me, obviously, but he'd grow.

We walked in and the tension was palpable. In a town as small as this one, it's hard to blend in when you're new, and we stuck out like a sore thumb. I realized I was probably dressed like a hood rat and Sam was, by association with me, also seen as a hood rat. I pushed him in front of me and challenged anyone staring with a cold look of my own. That turned some eyes away, but not all. With a shrug, I directed Sam toward his first class.

"Okay, Sammy," I said, bending down till I was eye-level with him. "Use that freakish brain of yours and knock 'em dead." He smiled at me with that knowing look of his.

"Only if you promise to not literally knock anyone dead. I can't babysit you all the time, you know," he teased, and I gave him a little noogie before straightening up. "You're a punk," I growled.

"Jerk," he called over his shoulder as he hoisted his bag up and walked into class, his head held high. If there was anything in this world I wanted, it was for him to be stronger than me. So far, so good, I guess.

I felt a familiar sense of vulnerability as I turned in the direction of my first class, AP Physics. _Make it through the first day, Dean, just make it through today, _was the mantra running through my head as eyes watched me intently, the curiosity bordering on down-right creepy. I was trying my damned best to avoid eye contact with anyone, but there always seemed to be that one person who just had to make life harder than necessary, and right now the person in question was a hot—and ridiculously persistent—blonde chick to my right. As I was approaching her, I could practically _feel _her undressing me. I was going to throw out the usual smolder but when one of the lugs put his arm around her and nearly growled at me, I decided that wouldn't be the best plan of action.

Her big blues followed my back, burning symmetrical holes through me as I turned the corner and recognized someone; it was that one guy I'd noticed on the grass earlier, and he was standing next to another blonde girl, not as hot as the first one, but definitely cute. She not-so-subtly pointed in my direction, and his eyes landed on mine. I felt myself go numb, and I decided then and there that his blue eyes kicked the hell out of the blonde chick's eyes.

Now, up until that point, I'd never thought of myself as anything but heterosexual. But this boy; no this man, had the most mesmerizing face I had ever seen. When I said his eyes were blue, I mean they were _blue. _When Sam was little, we would blow bubbles out in the yard on summer days, and when the bubbles drifted upwards it was like looking through a magnifying glass, and their soapiness made the sky appear almost as though it was glistening. And _that's _what his eyes were like. They were like little tiny magnifying glasses pointed at the summer sky.

His hair was darker than mine, and just a tiny bit longer; it had that 'I just got out of bed and I don't give a fuck' vibe, and I was digging it. He wore a navy pinstriped button-down shirt and black Levi jeans, the knees worn down so they were a lighter shade of grey. His black converse had holes in them along the sides, as if those were his only shoes and he wore them with love. And his lips…his lips were the palest pink, and cracked in a way that showcased his habit of licking them when he didn't have the energy to reach into his pocket for the chapstick he probably carried everywhere.

Needless to say, I was a teensy bit overwhelmed. And fuck it if I didn't want to walk right up to him and introduce myself. But what would he think of me, the little hoodlum with the leather jacket and torn jeans, and a devil-may-care attitude? The possibility of being judged by him made me rethink my goals and force me onward toward AP Physics. I felt a tiny bit of satisfaction when I noticed those glorious blue eyes of his watching me, and the little blush that crept up his veined neck.

I heard a screech and figured the girl beside him was having an aneurism over me being within breathing distance of her. It was a reaction I was used to instilling in girls—and women—of all ages. But at the moment, I didn't feel the satisfaction I usually experienced after making a girl melt. If anything I felt antsy; antsy to introduce myself to that guy and be his friend, be someone he could talk to. I wanted to know more, because he made me feel lost.

And I figured if I could get to know him, maybe it would help me find whatever it was I was missing.


	3. Chapter 3

Nothing's Really Working But That's Okay

Chapter 3

Cas

November is a beautiful month. The first snow fell early in October, and since then it's just like our little town is tucked into a huge, fluffy blanket of pearly frozen goodness. Gabriel was a little bit peeved by the snow—as if the weather was out to spite him and his sense of style. He'd been grumbling every day for the past month and a half about how his entire wardrobe was essentially useless, which was so ridiculously typical of him, considering he'd been living in this town as long as I had and should have been fully aware of the blustery falls and winters we had every single year. But that was Gabriel for you: able and willing to make a fuss over the seemingly obvious. Had Anna and I not known him for years now, we'd probably kill him.

Ever since my twenty seconds in heaven with Dean Winchester in the hall on that first day, I hadn't seen much of him. I knew he was still at the school because he was the main force behind the gossip chain. That was the unsettling beauty about our school; you could know more about a person's pastimes and who they spent them with before even learning their last name. And boy had I heard things about Dean.

I caught my first tidbit while eavesdropping on the intellectuals during study hall sometime in mid-October. Ash had overheard Lilith telling her little minions about her plans to, what was it, 'show the lost boy a path to peace.' Basically, she was going to get him in her pants…or vice versa. I'm not really sure about the logistics because, well, what the hell do _I _know about sex? The point is they were going to do it, and everyone was in an uproar about it.

I idly wondered whether Dean was aware of this plan, and spent the better part of that day imagining different ways he could reject her. Unfortunately, I couldn't think about that damn kid without my cheeks lighting themselves on fire, and would have to douse it with rousing images of naked ladies from the magazines I had found in Gabe's room during our sophomore year, before he came out to his parents and had to keep up a heterosexual front.

As it turned out, he excelled in all the classes I struggled in, like science and math, whereas I was taking honors English, creative writing, and a senior elective history class. The only class we together was gym, but because he also was a great athlete and I was my stringy self, we never conversed or rotated within the same circles in that class.

I glanced upward at the clock, willing this damn statistics class to hurry up so I could get to lunch. Gabriel, Anna and I were going to go off campus to our favorite café in town for burgers and shakes; unfortunately, every single high school kid with a wallet also frequented the place, so the earlier one could leave the quicker one could get the bar seats.

My phone vibrated in my pocket and I winced at how loud the buzz reverberated through the silent, half-asleep classroom. The teacher, Mr. Stevens, was about as bland as his surname would suggest, and was too busy preaching binomial distribution to notice my disrupting technology. I reached into my jacket and pulled out my phone, seeing the notification '1 new message' on the bright screen. I opened it and saw that it was from Anna:

_**Got let out of history early. Want me 2 pick up food 4 u?**_

I texted back no and hastily packed up my belongings as the bell finally rang. I ran through the halls until I found Anna and Gabe leaning against their respective lockers, obviously impatient for me to arrive.

"Took you long enough, angel face," Gabriel grumbled, tousling my hair affectionately despite his disgruntled expression.

"Just let me put my shit away and we can bust outta here," I replied with a grin, throwing my bag in my locker. With a defiant slam, I had my finger prepped and ready for the usual "Nose goes on paying!" from Anna, and my pointer-finger hit my nose lightning fast. Just like every other day, Gabe started whining when he came in a slow third place.

"Why do I _always _lose?" he complained, jumping up and down like a petulant kid.

"Because, honey," Anna replied patiently, "you don't know your nose from your toes." She squealed when Gabe hoisted her over his shoulder as punishment for the joke, and I watched with amusement as they grappled with each other before I checked my watch and began to panic.

"Guys, guys, guys," I prodded, "GUYS!" My raised tone brought their attention to me and my watch, which I had flung in their general direction. "We literally have two and a half minutes before the rush. We gotta go," I exclaimed, grabbing their arms and running toward the staircase.

In my haste, however, I lost my footing and flew, going into a quick free fall until I hit the wall mid-flight. I swear I saw birdies floating around my head. The line from that one cartoon movie "Who Killed Roger Rabbit" ran through my head, 'Stars, Roger! Not birdies, stars!' as I lay in a crumpled haze on the floor.

I felt a rough hand on the back of my neck, hoisting me up into a sitting position. "Heeey Gabriel," I mumbled, "I don't remember your hands being that rough…"

A deep voice chuckled, and my alarm at being touched by a stranger jarred me into action. I leapt up, which in case you didn't know, is a bad idea when one has suffered a concussion. I kind of spun in a circle, my sense of direction skewed, before being steadied by the same strange hand that had gripped me before.

"Hun, that ain't me," Gabe replied with amusement and a touch of awe; it didn't register until after he and Anna had come into focus did I realize that they were standing below me on the lower flight of stairs. As if in slow motion, I turned my head toward my 'savior' of sorts. It was none other than Dean Winchester, his large hand gripping my shoulder only tight enough to keep my wobbly body from tipping back over, eyes full of merriment; presumably at my muddle state.

I groaned and clutched a hand in my hair, shutting my eyes to stop the spinning. "Did I hurt anyone?" I asked after a moment.

Dean laughed that deep laugh of his, letting go of my arm once he'd decided I could handle myself well enough. "Nah, everyone cleared out when they saw your foot slip. Apparently this kind of thing happens to you often?" He was biting his lip, and it infuriated me that he could stand there laughing at me while I was obviously at a mental disadvantage and couldn't defend myself.

"It does not," I retorted, "I'm very steady most of the time. I was just…excited," I finished lamely.

Gabe, however, decided dredging up my past was the way to defend my honor. "Actually, in middle school Cas had a growth spurt and they had to pad the corners of all the walls because he would flail about and hit his head. It was a serious hazard," he added, a look of unadulterated adoration on his face. I then realized he was totally oblivious to me and my emotions because he was too busy ogling the man in front of him.

"Okay boys, as fun as this is, they're going to run out of curly fries if we don't hurry," Anna, my_ true_ savior, chimed in. Dean's eyes lit up with hunger.

"I'm starved, man! Let's go!" He turned to run down the stairs, and it took me a minute to realize we were supposed to follow him. With a shrug, I—slowly—managed to jog after him.

"Wait, Dean, slow down," I called, "I'm still a little dizzy." He halted immediately, running back toward me. He slung an arm around my shoulders so I could lean on him.

"Sorry, wasn't thinking." He offered a half smile and I returned it, albeit shakily. Gabe and Anna were on either side of us, Anna's fingers linking with mine and Gabe trailing a little bit behind Dean, most likely to ogle his ass.

An uncomfortable silence drifted over the four of us. Despite his friendliness toward us, Dean did not generally associate with kids of our social standing. Sure, he was a bad boy, but he was still one of the hottest things in school—and town, for that matter. As I said before, where he thrived I did not, and that went for popularity as well. That sort of left us with little to talk about.

While Gabriel spent his time drooling, Anna and I were playing a silent game of thumb wars while Dean's capable arm remained a steady source of support as we made our way into the café. Silver Creekin' Eatin' was the best and only café in town that sold food not out of a can. They had the best curly fries in the entire county, and the milkshakes were made from milk gathered from the cows on our very own farms. It's all very local, and gives everyone just one more miniscule reason to be proud of Silver Creek.

I walked up to the counter, ordering the usual for me, Anna and Gabe while Dean ordered for himself, asking the cute waitress whose name was Bela Talbot for suggestions. Bela was in our grade, but had dropped out after her parents died in a freak accident a few months after Bela's 18th birthday. There had been a lot of rumors going around about whether it wasn't such an accident after all, but they were squashed as soon as Bela heard wind of them. She was a sweet-faced girl with a silver tongue; she had a way of, for lack of a sweeter word, manipulating people. It was quite the show to watch, to be honest.

She leaned forward, her arms pushing her breasts together. It was a typical move for a girl like her; and no, I don't mean a hoe-bag. She lived on her own, with no one to support her and no one to look out for her. That tended to push girls into using their, ahem, assets to get them the fix or the money they needed to get by. You had to admire her resourcefulness.

Of course, Dean's eyes strayed down, but only for a split second. He seemed to have this weird way of eyeing someone, maintaining eye contact _and _grinning seductively all at once. He was currently doing this to Bela, and I've never seen her melt like she did in all the years I'd known her.

As they continued having eye-sex, I moved my way toward the back of the restaurant where my real friends were currently seated. I slid into the booth next to Gabriel, turning to watch him watch Dean. "So Gabe, is your jaw sore?" I asked, leaning my chin on my hand.

His intense staring was interrupted by my question, and he gave me a look of annoyance before asking, "What? What does that mean?"

"Oh, you know," I replied nonchalantly, "after having it drag on the ground all that time while visually abusing Mr. Winchester, I would imagine it'd be a little bit sore," I teased, and his grunt of distaste at my joke earned me a high five from an amused Anna.

Suddenly Gabriel was punching my arm and telling me to leave his side of the booth and go join Anna. I was confused before I saw a certain man heading in our direction with a tray of food. "Damn you and your stupid crushes," I grumbled before grudgingly moving to sit next to my other friend.

Dean reached our table and set the tray down, his eyes trailing over us until they landed on Gabe's hopeful, smiling face. It kind of hit me right then how smitten Gabriel seemed to be over this kid, and it made me a little bit uneasy.

I thought I saw a look of exasperation on Dean's face before he slowly slid in beside Gabe, keeping a safe distance from the infatuated boy. "So guys, how's the school year going for you so far?" he asked, obviously trying to distract himself from Gabriel's intensity.

"I think I bombed my statistics test," I offered, trying to make light of a subject I was actually quite distraught over. Math was definitely NOT one of my strong suits, and it bugged me to no end.

Dean's face lit up. "I could help you if you want," he replied. "Math is kind of my thing. Bobby—that's my sorta dad—he runs a kind of traveling mechanics business, and we sometimes build cars from scratch, and it really helps to know how to figure out dimensions and shit like that." I'd never seen him so animated before, and it was quite the sight. His eyes were a brighter shade of olive green, and his face seemed to be flushed with the excitement he felt over talking about something he loved. I took a moment to ponder what it meant to have a sort-of dad while Gabe tried to turn the attention towards him.

"I'm not very good at math either. But I think that's just because it doesn't have enough…glamour to keep me interested, y'know? It's just all lines and numbers and bullshit like that. I like stuff that pops," he explained eagerly. Dean glanced his way, offering a half smile before his attention went back to me.

"If you need tutoring, I gotta tutor my little brother every Wednesday after school so you could probably just join that; it'll be in the library, from 4:00 to 5:30. We could probably give you a ride home too."

I nodded, considering. I really did need to raise my grade, and Anna was too busy with college apps to help me with my work, like she had all through freshman, sophomore and junior year. Without my portable tutor I was kind of hopeless. "Yeah, okay. I'll see you there then, tomorrow right?"

He slapped the table, and held out his other hand in the form of a fist. I bumped it and he stood, giving us all a once-over, charming smile firmly situated on his lips. "Great! You'll love Sammy, he's a wild kid." With that, he left our table to go flirt a little with Bela before exiting the diner completely.

I smiled to myself, a little bit excited. This could be good for my social life and my report card; kind of a win-win, right? Until I looked up and saw the stare of death on Gabriel's face.

"What? What did I do?" I glanced between him and Anna, who wasn't meeting my gaze. There was obviously something I hadn't realized and it was making me incredibly uncomfortable.

"You're a big bag of dicks, you know that?" he seethed, arms crossed across his chest. I lurched back in surprise; he had never spoken with such animosity toward me since I'd know him.

"Why the hell would you say that?" I replied, my surprise evident from my tone of voice. At least I hope it was, because the last thing I needed was for Gabe to get pissed because he thought I was playing dumb. He _hated _when people did that kind of thing, especially his best friends.

"You totally cock-blocked me, Castiel! I was trying to make a move on Dean and you just used your cute little self to distract him! I really like him Cas, and you're ruining everything. Can't you just leave it alone? You like vagina anyway," he finished with venom in his voice.

I narrowed my eyes. "You're an idiot sometimes, Speight. Why the hell would I cock-block you? I'm just trying to raise my grade, and if he doesn't pay enough attention to you I can't be the one to take the blame! Have you ever thought that maybe he just _isn't in to you?" _

The hurt in his expression made me immediately regret what I'd said, but my pride forced me to hold me ground. He slid out of the booth in one jerky movement, his anger evident. "Fine, you douchenozzle. Anna, let's go," he said, completely disregarding my presence at this point. I watched as Anna pleaded with me silently to exit so she could calm Gabriel down.

Rolling my eyes, I moved out of her way, watching as he stormed out and she sort of gave apologetic looks to the rest of the patrons; that was Anna for you, always cleaning up after our messes. I picked at my French fries, appetite completely gone. "Well, fuck," I grumbled, and lowered my head—now pounding with the force of a thousand drunk sledgehammers—onto the plastic table. I really, really didn't have time for this.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: I'm SO sorry for the late update! I have been so swamped with homework and high school life (quite like the charries, eh?) and it's been wild. I'll try to get back to updating more regularly. Sorry again! Hope this makes it better! J

Nothing's Really Working But That's Okay

Chapter 4

Dean

Today was gonna be great. I could feel it. I went to bed before two a.m., I took a shower when I woke up, got dressed in a white tee with a dark blue button up and my leather jacket to keep me warm, and ate some not-totally-stale toast for breakfast before piling Sammy up into the Impala. 99% of everything I did this morning was completely abnormal, and _that's _how I knew today was going to kick some serious ass.

'Heat of the Moment' by Asia was blasting out of the speakers, and Sammy's fingers were jammed in his ears. "Dude, turn that crap down please!" he shouted over the chorus.

"I don't get why you hate on this song, man," I replied as I turned the knob to appease the kid. "Asia is classic."

He rolled his eyes. "It's Wednesday, Dean, that's why." At my confused look, he continued. "Every Tuesday morning you play this stupid song until my ears bleed. Mondays are Kansas, Wednesdays are Metallica, Thursdays are AC/DC, and Fridays are Styx. It's been in the same order since Bobby gave you the Impala," he explained matter-of-factly.

I growled. "Bobby didn't give me the Impala, you brat, I fixed it up and so I hold rightful ownership. It's not my fault that idiot had Baby sitting on cinder blocks in the junkyard for so long," I said wistfully, stroking the dashboard. Sam made kissy noises and earned a playful punch in the shoulder.

We reached the school and I shoved the kid out, handing him his backpack. "Go get 'em, Tiger," I said with a wink, and he smiled real goofy before jogging toward a group of his friends. I drove to find a parking spot and settled my Baby underneath a tree, so she wouldn't get too much snow on her hood.

Climbing out, I heard a voice calling my name and whipped around. Lilith was waving me over, her younger sister Ruby chatting up Sammy a little farther away. I sighed and ran a hand across my mouth. This Lilith chick was hot, and as fun as it was having my own personal cheerleader, it was starting to get old. And I didn't like the way her sister was inching closer to Sammy every time he said something; he was oblivious to this kind of shit, and it made me uncomfortable to think of what could happen between the two of them.

Regardless of my reservations about Lilith, I walked over to her anyway. I was optimistic enough to overlook her smothering personality and smug attitude. She ran at me, closing the distance with a hug that, if the crack I heard was accurate, broke all of my ribs. I gave her a half a second before I really, really needed to breathe.

"…Hey…Lilith…" I managed in between gasps of air. She gave me a bright-'n-white smile, one of those commercial dings going off in my head when the sun glinted off her artificially-cleaned teeth.

"Heeeey Dean," she replied, her hand barely grasping my wrist; her thumb was rubbing against my pulse. I could feel my heartbeat coincide with hers.

"Wanna go inside, sweetheart?" I asked, giving her the usual charming-Dean-treatment. She grinned and nodded, pulling me toward the double doors. I tried to give a warning glance to Sammy but he was busy describing some smart-ass thing to Ruby.

Before I could turn my head back around, I felt liquid fire running down my shirt and looked up to see Anna Milton staring at me with a horrific expression on her face, two coffee cups lying empty on the ground. I gritted my teeth, refusing to reveal the pain I was experiencing. She was absolutely frozen for a solid thirty seconds before she snapped back into action.

"Oh shit, Dean, I am so, so sorry! I tried to avoid Lilith and then I didn't see you and oh crap, Gabe's gonna kill me and the rest of the student body if he doesn't get his morning coffee…" She trailed off and shook her head, realizing how unintelligible she sounded with her babbling. With a tremendous amount of self-control, she regained her composure. Shrugging off her jacket, she started to dab my shirt with it, being careful not to press too hard.

"Give that to me," Lilith commanded, grappling Anna's jacket out of her visibly-shaking hands. Forceful patting replaced the tender touches I had been previously been administered, and I took a step back to avoid crying out in agony.

"Anna, Anna, it's all good," I lulled, watching as she stopped panicking. "I'm fine, really. Just…watch out next time, okay?" She nodded before shooting me another apologetic look and scurrying off. I heard a snort of disgust beside me and turned to look at Lilith.

"God what a clutz. She should be offering to dry clean your clothes for you," Lilith seethed, and reached to hold my hand again now that the drama was over. I backed away before she could get her claws on me.

"I'm going to go clean up, okay? See ya later," I called, and ran toward the boys' bathroom. I pushed through the door and stood in front of the full-body mirror that was hammered to the adjacent wall. "Fuck," I murmured. Not only was my white tee stained beyond repair, but my jeans were covered in drying coffee stains. And did I smell…caramel? No, no way was I walking around smelling like a caramel macchiato all day.

One of the stall doors opened and out walked Castiel Novak. He did a double-take when he saw my disheveled appearance and started to laugh. "What's so fuckin' funny, huh?" I snarled, taking a step toward him. He backed away, raising his hands.

"Nothing, nothing." He sniffed the air. "Oh shit, do I smell a caramel macchiato?" At my nod, he went from jovial to fearful in a heartbeat. "Dude, that's no good. How did you manage to get Gabriel's morning fix all over your junk?"

"Your friend Anna bumped into me and scalded my body, that's how," I grumbled, looking down at my pants. "What the hell am I supposed to do now? I'm gonna smell like a Starbucks all afternoon," I whined.

Castiel had a thoughtful look on his face. A light bulb seemed to go off in his head. "Wait here." Before I could protest, he ran out. It seemed like eternity before he came bursting back into the restroom. He had a bundle of clothes in his arms and he was breathing heavily.

"Here's an extra pair of jeans I keep in my locker," he set them down on the counter, "and here's some from a couple of the meatheads who owe me for tutoring. I didn't know what size you wore so I figured I'd just bring multiple pairs. It looks like your over shirt is clean so you could probably just scrap the tee and wear that for the rest of the day." He smiled at me, and I couldn't help but grin back.

I grabbed the pile of clothing and went into a stall, trying on Cas' pair. They were a little bit too small, which didn't surprise me; he was well-built from what I could tell, but he was wirier where I was, uh, filled in. One of the jock's pairs fit well enough, though, so I decided to just roll with it.

I walked out of the stall and jumped about three feet in the air when I saw that he was still standing there, leaning against the wall and staring at his shoes. "Dude, why are you still in here?" I asked, unnerved by his presence. There was something about him that I couldn't put my finger on, but it made me uneasy in a very confusing way.

"Uh, well, if my jeans didn't fit…" He held his hand out, and I felt like a complete moron.

"Ah shit, yeah man, sorry," I apologized, handing him the smaller pair. "So uh…" I rubbed the back of my neck. "Thanks for the pants." He gave me a half-smile and I returned it. I felt sticky, and realized I had yet to take my shirt off. I yanked off my button up, threw it on the ground, and had my hands on the hem of the tee before I noticed that Castiel had _still I _yet to leave.

"Dude," I said real slow, "you can leave now." He chuckled, his cheeks going pink.

"Whatever. Yeah, yeah. I'll go," he replied, and pushed out the door just as first bell rang. With a curse, I nearly ripped my shirt in half before I haphazardly threw on my over shirt and buttoned it while I ran toward my first class.

I saw Cas walking down the hall and shouted, "Tutoring?" When he threw up a thumb as confirmation, I smiled and continued toward AP Physics. Maybe today was going to turn out as good as I'd thought it would.

I was sitting in one of those private cubicles in the library, the ones that surrounded you on three sides and gave you a nice little personal space to do your work in. Admittedly, I was hiding; from Castiel, specifically.

I had been thinking nonstop about our interaction in the bathroom since that morning. Wasn't it kind of odd that he was just, like, there the entire time? No, maybe it wasn't. I mean he wanted his jeans back, right? But why did I feel like his eyes were glued on my abdomen the entire time? Don't get me wrong, I like being ogled once in a while, but with him…it almost felt like scrutiny. I dunno.

In either case, it was nearing the time for our tutoring, and I was kind of regretting the offer I had given him to get tutored. I wasn't going to wuss out of course, but still, after our run-in I kind of wanted to just take Sammy home and leave Cas hangin'. It sounds mean, but I've never been accused of extreme kindness.

I felt a hand clamp down on my shoulder, and looked up to see Sam staring at me. "Come on, jerk," he whispered. "Your friend has been sitting at a table for a good 15 minutes waiting for you."

I glanced at my watch. "It's only 3:50. I told him 4-5:30," I replied dumbly.

He sighed. "Apparently there's someone he was hoping to avoid, so he thought he'd get here early, but he didn't have your cell number so he couldn't tell you. Just come on, will ya? I gotta get out of here early." I grabbed his wrist before he could strut off.

"Where are you off to so fast?" I asked with a sinking feeling in my stomach.

"Ruby and I are going to the arcade later," he explained nonchalantly.

I narrowed my eyes but stood up to follow him. "I don't know if I want you hanging with that girl," I replied, feeling a sense of fatherly protectiveness wash over me. That girl was nothing but trouble if she followed in the footsteps of her psycho-bitch sister.

"Whatever, Dean. You had sex for the first time before you hit 14 so I think I'm gonna be fine," he hissed right as we reached the table where a nervous-looking Castiel was sitting, chewing on his bottom lip like he was a dog and it was his chew toy.

"Uh, let's keep that on the down-low," I growled quietly before pulling out a chair and plopping down in it, my arms resting on the back of it and my head resting on them.

"Sorry for getting here so early," Cas rushed out in a whisper. "I was hoping to avoid Gabriel. He comes here after school every day to read his…" He paused and rethought what he was about to say after taking a glance at Sam. "…His novels." My eyes widened for a second before I regained my calm and collected expression.

"I thought you guys were BFF's," I teased, and heard a sigh from Sam as he stood up and wandered off, probably uninterested in listening to a conversation between two very easily distracted people.

Cas cleared his throat, "Well, we had a little bit of a blow-out and I've been keeping my distance since then," he explained softly. My interest was officially piqued.

"What was it over?" He became considerably more uncomfortable when I inquired, and shuffled in his seat a little bit.

"Uh…well…" I gave him a pointed look that screamed 'I don't have time for games.' "It was over you."

My eyebrows shot up. Well, I'll be damned. Now I was _incredibly _interested. "Huh. Care to share what about me you were arguing over?"

An unrecognizable emotion passed over Castiel's face before he made a personal decision and leaned forward. "Gabe's been in love with you for as long as you've been at Garrison and when you offered to tutor me, he accused me of cock-blocking and we both said some things after that and then I left and we haven't talked since," he said in one big breath, seeming to deflate as he finished talking.

I frowned. "Why would he say that? It's not like anything would happen between me and him anyway," I replied.

His cheeks went pink. "Or us, for that matter," he added.

I laughed uneasily. "Yeah, of course. I am definitely _not _batting for team Homo," I said adamantly, though my tone of voice contradicted my firm words.

He laughed too, but he seemed even more uncomfortable than I was. "Uh, right. Well, I really should be going. It looks like Gabriel's about to walk in, and confrontations in the library after a day of no coffee for him would end up nuclear," he joked, though I could tell his heart wasn't in it.

I stood up, putting my hands in my pockets. "Okay. Hey, but uh, we should definitely meet up so I can help you with your math. We can go to a different library or something. Sammy wouldn't mind, he likes adventures," I offered, and regretted it immediately when his face brightened.

"Oh! Yeah, sure, okay," he replied, and gave me a heart-stopping smile before rushing out of the library.

_Well, shit, _I thought, mentally slapping myself. Why'd I have to go and say something like that? People I couldn't get a read on made me anxious, and yet I kept instigating interactions with this guy. I really must've been going crazy.


End file.
